whalesong

i sat on the old recliner and sucked
a dripping popsicle that tasted like
the kind of summer that bites into the roof of your mouth
and happened to be the exact shade of orange
of her dress, the one butterflies
swarm against and fall asleep on,
and
do you remember feeling those soft, chapped lips
in a haze of grayish spring?

something here tastes
far
too –

it was like total freedom-
burbling irony,
the melody that haunts and cries
and squeezes people’s souls

we were both blue
and comparing tentative fingers
when the words broke out and i felt everything shift
and i realized i didn’t have any right at all to grow up
but it was okay because we had time.

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